Jean Rabe
Sheriff Piper Blackwell is plunged into the dark heart of “idyllic” Spencer County, Indiana…
About the book:
A teenager dressed as Tinker Bell never made it to the Halloween party.
Her murders sends a ripple of fear through Piper Blackwell’s rural jurisdiction.
Investigating the crime, the young sheriff and her detective are drawn into an underworld they didn’t know existed. Can the pair survive the trip into the dark heart of once idyllic Spencer County?
Can they find the killer before more lives are are destroyed and he strikes again?
Publisher: Boone Street Press (May 15, 2022)
Publication date: May 15, 2022
Language: English
Print length: 319 pages
Buy link: mybook.to/DeadofAutmn
Dead of Autumn is book five of the Piper Blackwell Series. Want to read the series in order? Check it out here: http://mybook.to/PiperBlackwellSeries.
Prefer audio? The Piper Blackwell series is in audio, read by Catherine Wenglowski. Start with book one of the series: mybook.to/DeadofWinterAudio
Sign-up for her newsletter: https://jeanrabe.com/sign-up-for-my-newsletter/ and follow her on Amazon: http://author.to/JeanRabe to keep up with her latest works!
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Millie stared at the body face-down in the middle of the yard. A dagger protruded from between its shoulder blades, a vivid red stain stark against the white hoodie. The tips of its mud-caked boots rested on the edge of a concrete sidewalk that curved from the driveway to a front door festooned with cornstalks and orange ribbons. Three large jack-o-lanterns glowed on the stoop.
All of it eerily illuminated by a spotlight perched near the street and aimed this way.
Millie had almost called the coroner when she pulled up to the Fulda residence. Fortunately, she took a closer look before keying the radio. She figured if she had summoned Dr. Neufeld that would have made her the butt of endless jokes in the Spencer County Sheriff’s Department, where she’d been working as a deputy for the past six months.
The body had straw protruding from slits in the blue jeans.
Across the street a half-dozen children skittered along the curb, bulging sacks in hand. Millie noted Raggedy Ann, a cowboy, Shrek, an impressive-looking Mandalorian, the Flash, and Cinderella. A few houses down a boy dressed as a pickle waddled with an adult, and just beyond them Princess Leia strolled with an astronaut. Millie remembered wearing a Princess Leia outfit when she was five-years-old. She was heading toward twenty-five now.
The block glowed with front porch lights. It was festive and spooky at the same time. The costumed kids chattered, giggled, and Cinderella pointed at Millie and waved, but they stayed on the other side of the street.
Sent here by the dispatcher, Millie had parked her Explorer in the driveway. The 9-1-1 call had come from a hysterical passing motorist.
From the street the body looked realistic; she understood why someone called.
Millie took a picture of the display with her cell phone and was halfway up the walk when the door opened.
“You’re scaring the kids away,” grumbled a wizard who came out onto the stoop, box of candy in his left hand, the fingers of his right wrapped around a tall, gnarled staff that was heavily lacquered.
She’d seen all the Lord of the Rings movies, and knew this was Gandalf, the gray version, complete with torso-length white beard and long white hair. Hard to tell how old the man actually was given the makeup. The dispatcher had said the homeowner’s name was Harrold Walthrop, but provided no other information about him.
“Got a call about the body in your yard, Mr. Walthrop,” Millie said.
Across the street a trio of scary-looking clowns reminiscent of Stephen King’s “It” laughed and gestured her way. One of them held a large red helium-filled balloon.
Millie stared at the body face-down in the middle of the yard. A dagger protruded from between its shoulder blades, a vivid red stain stark against the white hoodie. The tips of its mud-caked boots rested on the edge of a concrete sidewalk that curved from the driveway to a front door festooned with cornstalks and orange ribbons. Three large jack-o-lanterns glowed on the stoop.
All of it eerily illuminated by a spotlight perched near the street and aimed this way.
Millie had almost called the coroner when she pulled up to the Fulda residence. Fortunately, she took a closer look before keying the radio. She figured if she had summoned Dr. Neufeld that would have made her the butt of endless jokes in the Spencer County Sheriff’s Department, where she’d been working as a deputy for the past six months.
The body had straw protruding from slits in the blue jeans.
Across the street a half-dozen children skittered along the curb, bulging sacks in hand. Millie noted Raggedy Ann, a cowboy, Shrek, an impressive-looking Mandalorian, the Flash, and Cinderella. A few houses down a boy dressed as a pickle waddled with an adult, and just beyond them Princess Leia strolled with an astronaut. Millie remembered wearing a Princess Leia outfit when she was five-years-old. She was heading toward twenty-five now.
The block glowed with front porch lights. It was festive and spooky at the same time. The costumed kids chattered, giggled, and Cinderella pointed at Millie and waved, but they stayed on the other side of the street.
Sent here by the dispatcher, Millie had parked her Explorer in the driveway. The 9-1-1 call had come from a hysterical passing motorist.
From the street the body looked realistic; she understood why someone called.
Millie took a picture of the display with her cell phone and was halfway up the walk when the door opened.
“You’re scaring the kids away,” grumbled a wizard who came out onto the stoop, box of candy in his left hand, the fingers of his right wrapped around a tall, gnarled staff that was heavily lacquered.
She’d seen all the Lord of the Rings movies, and knew this was Gandalf, the gray version, complete with torso-length white beard and long white hair. Hard to tell how old the man actually was given the makeup. The dispatcher had said the homeowner’s name was Harrold Walthrop, but provided no other information about him.
“Got a call about the body in your yard, Mr. Walthrop,” Millie said.
Across the street a trio of scary-looking clowns reminiscent of Stephen King’s “It” laughed and gestured her way. One of them held a large red helium-filled balloon.
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